


The Best of Both Worlds

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Clarke was a child star, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hannah Montana AU, Pop Star AU, Pop Star Clarke, Romantic Comedy AU, They are total idiots in this, Unplanned Pregnancy, bodyguard bellamy, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: Auburn wig, green contacts, and a fuck-all attitude—those were the three things that separated Clarke from Josie Lightbourne. For the better part of a decade, Clarke had been playing a role. On one side, she was a middle school art teacher, the kind of person who wore cardigans and drank coffee out of misshapen clay mugs. On the other, she was a pop sensation, jet setting, party going, the star of the show.There were only a handful of people who knew the truth, who she trusted to keep her secret safe. Bellamy Blake was one of them. He’d always protected her, shielded her from the crazed crowds and flashing cameras. He was her best friend, the love of her life and he had absolutely no idea how she felt.With the temptation of a life away from the public eye, Clarke wants to give it all up. The only thing holding her back? The possibility that without Josie, she would lose Bellamy forever
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, minor Lincoln/Octavia
Comments: 43
Kudos: 216





	The Best of Both Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a Hannah Montana AU hahah no apologies it's totally ridiculous.
> 
> I love y'all and I hope you like it! :)

Clarke pulled off her wig the second the limo door slammed shut, the tinted windows shielding her from the prying eyes of the public. 

“Do you ever get tired of this?” Bellamy asked, pulling out his phone to tell her manager that they were safely in the limo. 

“Honestly—yeah,” she shrugged, reaching into the minbar and grabbing them both tiny bottles of grey goose. 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her, nodding his head no. He technically wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, had to be on high alert at all times. The last thing he needed was to be drunk and have a crazed fan try to lunge at her. 

It wasn’t professional. 

She knew that. 

But they’d been friends for over a decade. He’d known her since she was 15 years old, he was more than her bodyguard at this point. 

“C’mon Bell...live a little. You look exhausted, and we have a looong plane ride ahead of us,” she urged, wiggling the bottle between her fingers. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but he took the bottle, clinking it against hers and downing most of it in one go. 

She was slower, taking her time. Downing shots were never exactly her forte. 

Most people assumed she was a wild partier—she couldn’t exactly blame them. Clarke had been in the public eye since she was 14, first on her Disney Channel show and later in the music career. 

But she’d never really liked parties, too rowdy, too loud, too many opportunities for someone to rip off her wig and figure out she’d been lying to the world for her entire life. 

“You never answered my question,” Bellamy said, leaning back in the plush leather seat. The tips of his fingers brushed her shoulder, his fingers smoothing down her hair—her real hair, the blonde curls that she kept hidden from the world. 

“I feel like I’m getting too old for this. Don’t get me wrong, I love performing…but Josie feels like a teenager, and well, I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m 25, and I’m still wearing sparkly tank tops and bubble gum pink lip gloss,” she admitted, taking the rest of Bellamy’s bottle and finishing it for him. 

He gave her a nod of understanding, index finger looping around a curl. Truthfully, he was one of the only people who truly got it. Most of her friends thought she was nuts, had no idea why she kept up the ruse for all this time. 

Sometimes she wanted to lay it all out. Sometimes it felt like it would be easier to tell the world. But she loved her privacy, loved that she had a real job. When she was Josie, she had the kind of fame people spent their entire lives dreaming about, but as Clarke, she had the luxury of disappearing in a crowd. 

She was never built for fame, she’d fallen into it by accident. 

A friend of her mom’s told her she should audition for Disney Channel on a whim. It was supposed to help boost her confidence and give her some public speaking practice. Nobody ever expected her to get the part, she was small for her age and awkward, too bookish to ever be popular. 

But against all the odds, she did. 

In an attempt to maintain some normalcy, her parents helped her craft a fake identity. They bought her green contacts, a very expensive wig, and together, they built a life for Josephine Lightbourne. 

“But I’ve been Josie for so long, I don’t know who I am without her,” she said, voice small, letting herself finally admit it out loud. 

Quietly, Bellamy edged closer, pulling her into his chest, holding her. 

She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, letting her body fully relax. 

He knew her. The real her, everything about her. No secrets. 

It was a rarity in her life. 

There was a group of people who knew Clarke Griffin and another who knew Josephine Lightbourne. Only a handful of carefully chosen confidants knew both. 

“Whoever you are. I’ve always got your back,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing a soothing hand down her side. 

***

It was late by the time she got home, body sore from the long plane ride and makeup still caked under her eyes. 

All Clarke wanted to do was bury under the covers and sleep all day. 

But she had to work. 

“Rise and shine pop princess,” Bellamy’s voice called through the door, seconds before it swung open. He was holding a tray of coffees and a greasy McDonald’s bag with Octavia following closely behind. 

“Thanks for breakfast Josie,” Octavia teased, taking her coffee and flopping down on Clarke’s bed. 

Clarke groaned, but removed the pillow from her face, grudgingly taking a hash brown. 

“You’re both crazy. Neither of you needs to work, but here you are at seven in the morning getting ready for school...” Octavia shook her head, talking around a massive bite of breakfast sandwich. 

“Not all of us want to spend our entire days ordering $5,000 chaise lounges,” Bellamy teased, shoving Octavia so he could sit on the end of Clarke’s bed. 

He was already dressed for work, a total transformation from his bodyguard suit, and a long wig. Like this, it was clear how nobody ever put together who they were. He looked like a totally different person. 

Teacher Bellamy was all soft sweaters, black-rimmed glasses, and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. 

It wasn’t as flashy as the suit, but Clarke liked him better this way. This was her Bellamy, the one who kept paperbacks tucked in his back pocket and had a tiny tattoo of his mom’s initials tucked in the crook of his elbow. 

Absently, she tucked a curl behind his ear, lingering for a beat before she pulled away. 

Sometimes she lost sight of the fact that he wasn’t hers. They spent so much time together, working, performing, just hanging out that it was easy to forget. But they were just friends, she always had to watch herself, couldn’t let on that she wanted more. 

Bellamy was her first crush, her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else in the world. He was too important to her to risk telling him. So her feelings stayed a secret—pushed down, only slipping out in moments like these. 

She’d loved him since she was fifteen years old, so long that it had almost become a part of her. 

Octavia clearly her throat loudly, breaking their moment. “You might want to get dressed, you’re both going to be late.” 

Shoot. 

Octavia was right. She’d gotten a little caught up in the whole breakfast thing, but school started in an hour, and she didn’t have any pants on. 

***

Bellamy was sitting back on the desk when she peeked her head in the room. He was talking animatedly about Shakespeare, waving his hands around as he explained the allegory in Hamlet. 

The kids were enraptured, probably more by Bellamy’s excitement than the actual material, but it was still a feat. 

“What’s Miss. Clarke doing here?” One of the boys asked, twisting in his chair to examine her. 

“She’s here to help me act out this play, obviously,” Bellamy covered quickly, gesturing for her to come into the room. 

With kids this age, they spiraled out of control quickly. If they even suspected that Bellamy and Clarke were anything other than friends, the rumors would never die. 

She’d just meant to take a peek in the room and continue down the hall. But she had a free period, a little theatre practice couldn’t hurt. 

They ran through the lines of hamlet together, running around the room and doing voices. There was even a small sword fight with two unsharpened pencils, ending with Clarke tipping over and dramatically crumpling to the floor. 

“Not bad for an art teacher,” Bellamy murmured, pulling her up as the class burst into cheers and claps. 

With a sweeping bow, Bellamy dismissed the class, calling the outstanding homework assignments to them while they filed out. 

“That was fun,” Clarke grinned perching on top of Bellamy’s desk while he cleared the room, picking up stray papers and forgotten notebooks. 

It was the truth. 

They were in their element here, goofing off with kids, dancing around the room. Moments like these made the double life worth it, made all the secrets worth keeping. 

“I love seeing you like this,” he admitted, sitting beside her, their sides brushing. “You seem like yourself when we’re here.” 

She knew what he was getting at—that he was subtly trying to show her that it was okay if she wanted to let go of her fame. He made it seem so easy, slipping into this life for real. 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it, fantasized about settling down and enjoying a quieter life. One day, she wanted to open her own school, with floor to ceiling windows and a chicken coop in the back. A place where kids could really be themselves. Maybe she would have a family…

But thoughts like that always dipped into daydreams about her and Bellamy. Sure, she’d dated people other than him, even loved people other than him. But the truth of the matter was that he was her home and her family and she couldn’t picture a future without him. 

Sometimes she wondered whether it was part of what was holding her back from letting Josie go. 

Her double life had always held them together. They’d met on the set of Josie’s World. Back then, he was just Octavia’s brother. She used to make him drawings, little scribbles of him reading while they filmed. They hadn’t known each other, Bellamy was quiet, only hanging out to supervise his sister and barely interacting with any of the crew.

But she wore him down eventually.

She’d only been 15 at the time, and he absolutely humored her massive, pathetic, and not at all subtle crush on him. It started off innocent enough, an unreciprocated crush. But as they got older and got closer, it developed into something more for her. 

There were times where she was sure that he felt the same way…that he loved her too. But it came and went, difficult to honestly read. 

It was hard when you spent so much time with someone. Eventually, they become such a big part of you that it’s impossible to be objective. 

She’d gotten so used to having him around, traveling together, working side by side. If Josie went away forever, if they lost that connection, she was worried she would lose him too. 

“There’s a new murder mystery documentary out on Netflix,” she said, cutting through the silence. “Do you want to come over and watch it? I can make dinner.” 

“We’d have to go grocery shopping. You don’t have anything in your fridge,” he shrugged, already collecting his bag and jacket. 

“That’s fine by me. I can’t handle any more restaurant food.” 

“Yeah, that Egg McMuffin really did me in this morning.” 

Shrugging on her own coat, Clarke followed him out to the parking lot, grateful that they’d decided to carpool. 

“Which is exactly why I’m making us pesto chicken and bowtie pasta and salad. Maybe even a peach cobbler for dessert,” she grinned, curling up in the passenger seat.

It was his favorite dinner. 

“Am I dying?” He deadpanned, clearly suspicious that she was in the mood to make all his favorite foods. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be nice!” 

“In that case, can we get some ice cream for the cobbler?” 

She shoved him lightly, letting her hand linger on his bicep as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

For a bright, shining moment, it was pure domestic bliss. They picked out fantastically indulgent desserts and bickered over which chicken breast was the best option. 

This slow afternoon roaming around Whole Foods was better than her entire weekend in New York. 

Maybe Bellamy was right—maybe performing wasn’t what she wanted anymore. 

***

“There’s a BuzzFeed article about your hairstyles through the years. They used the phrase ‘Josie Lightbourne’s natural lush auburn locks, ’ which is hilarious,” Octavia teased, tossing her phone across the aisle to Clarke. “Don’t miss that great picture from when we had braces too.” 

Clarke ran her thumb over the image. She sometimes forgot that she and Octavia had known one another for so long. 

They looked so young, decked out head to toe in vineyard vines with gigantic bows on their heads. It was all bubble gum pink and duck lips and painfully innocent in a way that tugged at her heart. 

As much as this life wore on her sometimes, she wouldn’t trade these people for the world. 

Now that her parents were gone, they were all she had. 

Her family. 

For all the headache that Josie’s World brought her, it gave her all this, and for that, she would always be grateful. 

“Look at us,” she sighed, pressing the phone to her chest. 

“I know,” Octavia agreed, unclipping her seatbelt so she could curl into Clarke’s side. 

“Do you wanna play MASH?” She asked, fishing a piece of paper and a pen out of the seat pocket. “For old time‘s sake.” 

From her place on Clarke’s shoulder, Octavia glanced over at Bellamy. 

“I’ll save you the effort. You’re going to live in a shack, have 15 kids, be a plumber and marry Bellamy,” she teased, winking at Clarke. “I used to rig it so that you always ended up with Bellamy.” 

Clarke pretended to be indignant—but she had always known. 

Her crush on Bellamy when they were kids was so painfully obvious, of course, Octavia knew. What always surprised her was that she was okay with it. There was never any drama, any fighting, if anything Octavia encouraged it even though Clarke never dared to admit it out loud. 

“Let’s do you then!” She chirped, scribbling Octavia’s name at the top of the paper. It was a nice change of subject, a diversion away from her feelings. 

There was no need to beat a dead horse. 

It wasn’t that she was over it, but she’d come to terms with the idea that she and Bellamy were never meant to be. They were better off as friends—platonic soulmates, maybe. It hurt like hell, but he was her best friend, and that was more than enough. 

***

  
Bellamy watched as Clarke did a flip across the stage, his wig itching painfully around his hairline. 

He hated the damn thing—the stupid ponytail he had to wear to maintain his cover. But it was what Clarke wanted, and well, he’d never been very good at saying no to her. 

Even when she was just a skinny little kid, before he saw her as anything other than one of his sister’s annoying friends, he’d always had a soft spot for her. 

Over the years, she went from being the kid who slipped drawings into his notebooks to the woman at the center of his world. 

He loved her. So much that it hurt sometimes. 

How could he not? 

Here she was, singing her heart out in front of almost a hundred thousand people, each and every one of them hung off her every word. And on Monday, she was going to turn around and teach a bunch of surly twelve-year-olds about primary color mixing. 

He never had a chance. She was a flame, and Bellamy couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

If he had to wear an itchy, stupid-looking fake ponytail, an earring, and dark-tinted sunglasses for her, he would. 

“You all know the words to this one, let’s close this out together my loves,” Clarke screamed, holding the mic out toward the crowd. 

They sang along with her—hordes of people screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs. 

It was incredible, six years later, and this song still brought a stadium full of people to their feet. 

Clarke was beaming, reaching out to brush hands with people in the crowd. 

They loved her, reaching up and jumping just to get a taste of who she was. 

He couldn’t blame them. She truly lived up to all the hype. 

But as much as the people loved her, Bellamy could see all the ways fame was starting to wear down on Clarke. She’d lost her spark a little, going through the motions more than actually living them. The only time she came to life was when she was at school, teaching art and hanging out with the kids. 

All the fame, the fans, the concerts, it wasn’t her. But she never listened, she would rather burn herself to the ground before she let anyone down. 

“Can you tell Clarke I headed out? I have a shoot for Calvin Klein, and there’s supposed to be a storm. I can’t afford to get stuck here,” Octavia whispered, dragging him away from the curtain. 

She already had her coat on, long dark hair tucked under a woolen cap. Even with all the noise, all the people running around them, she was giving him that look. 

The one that said, “you’re an idiot.” 

He knew it well. Octavia was always the person who could see right through him. She’d known from the beginning, probably before he realized it himself. 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” She said, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you.” 

And with that, she disappeared, only leaving behind the hint of Jo Malone and a vague sense of judgment. 

He resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair, knowing it would loosen his wig. He had no clue how Clarke managed to wear that thing while she flipped around and danced like that, his barely stayed on when he was standing still. 

Octavia meant well, but she didn’t understand. There was so much on the line, so much to lose if things didn’t work out. 

He couldn’t risk losing his best friend. 

“I love you, Chicago!” Clarke yelled, providing only a few seconds of warning before she burst into the wings. 

Immediately, they were swarmed, dragged left and right, press and hair and makeup all over the place. 

Bellamy gathered Clarke under his arm, shepherding her away from the crowds, toward the quiet of her dressing room. 

This was what he did best, shielding her from the temperaments of the game. He wasn’t a trained bodyguard, but he was former military, and he knew how to put an over-friendly interviewer in their place. 

“You were amazing out there,” he said, handing her a bottle of water after the door closed. 

Clarke beamed at him, a real Clarke smile, completely free of her Josie character. It was the smile he loved most, the one only a handful of people had really seen. 

He was just about to explain Octavia’s absence when Clarke’s manager shouldered into the room. 

“Our flight is canceled. We’re stuck until morning,” she said, giving them both a closed mouth apologetic smile. 

***  
“What are we going to do!!? There’s school tomorrow! And school in Palo Alto isn’t going to get canceled because it’s snowing in Chicago!” Clarke groaned, pacing a lap around the living room of their suite. 

It was last minute—and the weather was terrible, but they managed to get the president's suite at some ridiculously overpriced hotel downtown. It wasn’t cramped by any stretch of the imagination, but Bellamy was going to sleep on the couch. 

Not ideal, but not the end of the world as far as he was concerned. 

Clarke, on the other hand, was freaking out. She hadn’t sat still for a second, either digging through the massive bags of clothes that had been sent up for them or pacing frantic laps around the room. 

“You need to relax. We called in sick. They’ll get a sub. It’s one day,” he assured, knowing that whatever was going with her wasn’t rational. 

“I know, I know—I just—“ she sighed, flopping back onto Bellamy’s couch bed. 

“You’re running yourself ragged. This is a lot of anyone to manage. It’s a day off. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you to relax,” he continued, sitting gently beside her, urging her head into his lap. 

He carded his fingers through her hair, untangling the knots, running his nails over her scalp. There were still flecks of wig glue along her hairline, a small remnant of her double life. 

“They brought you a case of wine…” 

Clarke perked up at that, crawling out of his lap to retrieve two of the bottles from the massive box. 

She deserved this: the hotel room, the fancy wine, the plush bathrobe, and, most of all, a break. 

“Here you are good sir,” she said, voice slipping into a weird mix between a British accent and a southern one as she pressed a bottle into his hand. 

Without much fanfare, she tucked herself into his side, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. 

It was comfortable and domestic. He kept his arm around her, relishing in the closeness of it, in the warmth of her skin. 

They watched a dumb hallmark Christmas movie, turning the overblown love story into a drinking game, talking and laughing, and tipping the wine bottles back till they were nearly empty. 

“You’re my favorite person in the entire world,” Clarke whispered against the skin of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the gap between his neck and his jaw. 

Her voice was slurred a little around the edges, laced with the weight of the wine. 

Bellamy’s heart swelled, he knows it’s the wine, but he can’t help the way that her words make his chest feel tight. He gathers her in his arms, pulling her even closer, kissing her hairline. 

“You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he replied, knowing it was something he would never have the courage to say in normal circumstances. 

They fell asleep like that, arms around each other, the sound of the TV lulling them to sleep. 

***

  
Clarke’s tour schedule paused as the year winded down. They had a quiet Christmas, just Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, and her new boyfriend, Lincoln. It was nice, simple, and just time spent together eating and celebrating. 

That night in the hotel room was still lingering in the back of Clarke’s mind. 

It felt—right. 

She and Bellamy had always been close, always been touchy, they were just like that. But lately, it was becoming overwhelming. She caught herself staring at him constantly, looking for ways that their skin could brush. 

Just once, late at night, she’d let herself indulge in a fantasy of telling him everything, having him take her apart slowly. 

By the time New Years rolled around, it was all she could think about. 

They went to some club—something overly trendy and full of people that they were supposed to know but didn’t. 

For the first time in a long time, she went out to a bar dressed as herself. No Josie, no wig, no people vying for her attention 24-7. 

It was incredible how easily she blended into the crowd. All eyes were on Octavia, vying for the attention of a supermodel and her millionaire boyfriend. She and Bellamy sank back into a booth, taking shots and joking amongst themselves. Not a single person so much as looked in their direction. 

As the tequila unwound her nerves, Clarke edged closer to Bellamy in the booth, waiting until their thighs were pressed together before she stopped. 

“You don’t seem like you want to be here,” she said, her lips brushing his ear as she talked over the beat of the music. 

“With you? I always want to be with you,” he grinned, lips tilting into a lopsided smile. “But, I hate bars.” 

He nuzzled his cheek into the crown of her hair, really appreciating the fact that it was real, that they were tucked into the corner of this booth, and nobody was watching. 

This was dangerous, he knew that. But he was just drunk enough to throw caution to the wind and let himself enjoy this moment. 

“I wish this was real life,” Clarke continued, looking out into the crowd. “Nobody cares about us right now. We can do whatever the hell we want.” 

“This could be real life if you wanted it to be. It’s all up to you,” he said with a soft smile, chest twisting at the implications of his words. 

He’d always known that without Josie—Clarke wouldn’t need him anymore, there would be no reason for them to hang out every weekend. No more long plane rides or shots in the limos or hugs as she barreled off stage. 

They would go back to being regular friends, the kind who weren’t overly involved in each other’s lives.

It would hurt like hell, but he knew in the long run that leaving Josie would make Clarke happier. And even if it hurt him in the process, that was what he wanted more than anything. 

Bellamy closed his eyes, living in the moment, memorizing the press of Clarke’s body against his, the warm buzz under his skin, the comfort of having someone in his arms. 

He had one drink and then another and another. 

It’d been a while since he indulged like this. Usually, he was so focused on keeping Clarke safe that he never pushed past a single cocktail. 

“Let’s dance,” he offered, lips still nudging the corner of Clarke’s hairline. 

He knew he was drunk, he never felt comfortable enough to dance in public places. But he was happy and with his favorite person and she was so close and smiling at him like he was the only person in the room—Bellamy was only human. 

“I like you like this,” she said, lacing their hands together and pulling him into the crowd. 

It was obvious she was drunk too, her eyelids heavy and cheeks flushed.

Clarke was beautiful. He was always at least somewhat aware of this, it was a part of life at this point. But right now, it was overwhelming. The way she was looking at him, the way she pulled him in till their bodies were lined up perfectly. 

They were toeing a very dangerous line, one that he had always been very careful to stay away from. But right now, the temptation was too strong. 

He sagged into it, running his hands down her sides, memorizing the way her hips swayed with the beat. She reached up, hands sliding up his neck, tangling in his hair. 

Bellamy thought he might die. In fact, he briefly considered whether he was already dead, and this was all just some cruel fantasy. 

Clarke’s ass ground down, bumping his dick. It was a light brush at first, but it quickly shifted into a slow, deliberate grind. 

He had no idea what was going on, knew that he should probably stop this. They were both drunk, not drunk enough that they didn’t know what they were doing—but definitely erring on the side of questionable judgment. This was dangerous and messy, and it had the potential to ruin everything. 

This couldn’t go on, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was something he’d wished for such a long time. She wanted him back, wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to make her feel good. 

“Bellamy…” Clarke moaned, her lips dragging across his jawline.

It was the last push he needed, his drunk brain was about to explode from the overload of it all. 

He gripped her hips, meeting the sway of hers. It felt so good, so right, the way she rubbed up against him, panting softly, eyes closed, 

They were on a dance floor of crowded people, but right now, it was just the two of them. 

He knew things had gotten more intense between them lately, that his feelings were edging less on longing and more on desperate. But he hadn’t even had an inkling that she felt the same way. 

There were more touches, more snuggling, maybe—he was getting his hopes up for nothing, they were drunk, and this was physical. 

This was messy, and it had the potential to ruin everything—but the way Clarke was talking, it seemed like everything was on the verge of falling apart anyway. 

Maybe they just needed to get it out of their systems. 

Clarke’s teeth grazed his pulse point, a soft moan slipping from her lips. 

It was the last push he needed. 

He tilted her chin up, kissing her soundly. 

This kiss, the one he’d been thinking about since he was a sullen teenager. It was finally happening, and it was better than any fantasy he could’ve come up with. 

She turned in his arms, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. They were still swaying to the beat, bucking against each other, hot and desperate. 

“Follow me,” Clarke said, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. 

Still overwhelmed, he nodded dumbly, taking her outstretched hand and letting her lead him through the crowd. 

Bumping into people and nudging their way through, they made it to a side door and tumbled into a dirty alley. 

He immediately crowded her up against a brick wall, her leg coming to wrap around his hips. 

“Fuck baby…” he groaned, nipping at the corner of her jaw. 

“I called a car,” she moaned, tripping her head back as he worked at her skin. “We’re going to Josie’s house.” 

And that was when Bellamy understood—this really might be the end of everything. 

***

  
Clarke was very quickly sobering up, the faint buzz of the alcohol slipping away as she climbed into Bellamy’s lap. 

She wasn’t sure how exactly this all set into motion, what finally pushed her over the edge, but she never wanted this to stop. 

The past few weeks, her tour schedule, the endless wardrobe of sparkly bodycon dresses, and sparkly lip gloss—she was tired. 

This life, the double life, the crowds, and the fans and people yanking her left and right. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

Her feelings for Bellamy, her fear of losing him, it was the last thing holding her back. Clarke didn’t know if she would ever be able to truly admit her feelings for him, but this was better than nothing. 

He wanted her, to hold her and kiss her and make her feel good—and for now, that was enough. 

She cupped his jaw, stroking his cheeks as she slowed their kisses to soft pecks. 

The tires of the limo crunched against the gravel, an indication that they were nearing the house. 

“Are you sure about this?” Bellamy asked, holding her thighs, their foreheads pressed together. 

Clarke bumped her nose against his. She knew this had more than one meaning. He probably thought she’d lost her fucking mind. 

“I’ve never been more sure,” she said, trying to convey all her emotions as they stared at each other. “Are you?” 

Bellamy didn’t answer, he just kissed her again. It was different this time, slow and careful. 

She wasn’t sure whether her heart was exploding or breaking, this wasn’t real. Clarke may not be one for hooking up, but she knew Bellamy was. 

It was just physical. 

But it was okay. 

At least she would know what it was like to be with him. Even if it was just for one night. It was the last thing she needed to do to let go of her double life. 

The car pulled to a stop, and they tumbled out, coming face to face with the ridiculously large beach house she’d bought when she turned 18. It was massive—and according to the rest of the world, it was where the ever reclusive Josie Lightbourne hid from the world. 

They hadn’t been back here in years, it felt like it was frozen in time. Her Emmy sat on the shelf beside the TV, the entire house decorated with mismatched furniture from anthropology, and a jacket she’d worn to the VMAs was still draped across the back of a chair. 

Bellamy sat down on the piano bench, tapping a key absently. 

The heat from the bar had edged away, disappearing with the fleeting excuse of their drunkness. 

She’d written so many songs on the bench of that piano. Songs about love and life and loss—plenty about the man that was sitting in front of it right now. 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her. 

“I can almost see it...that dream I’m dreaming,” he whispered, playing the soft melody of one of her favorite songs. 

She came up behind him, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, singing along with him. 

“There’s always gonna be another mountain,” she sang, wrapping her arms around him, leaning her chin on his shoulder. 

They sang together, voices melding sweetly. It was like a soft blanket, the way that the lyrics settled between them. 

The sweetness of it all, the amount of love that was pulling through her veins, it made all of this harder. 

She wanted to tell him, wanted to admit everything, that she had loved him for over half her life. She wanted to ask him to run away from it all, to throw their wigs into a fire and never look back. 

But instead, she just kissed him again, funneling everything she wanted to say into it. 

He kissed her with equal enthusiasm, turning on the bench so she could settle in his lap. 

It wasn’t the confession she wanted, but it was life-changing all the same. The way he held her, his hands cupping her ass, pulling her into him. It was...everything. 

She wanted him so badly, the seam of her jeans not quite rubbing her where she wanted it most. 

“Bell, please,” she whispered, voice raspy, desperate as she peppered kisses into the skin of his jaw. 

“I need you to say it,” he said, voice dark and suddenly serious, his hips stilling. 

Make love to me, she wanted to say, wanted him to take her slowly and unwrap her like she was the only person on earth. But that was too close to the truth, too vulnerable. 

“Fuck me,” she said instead, hips bucking involuntarily against his. 

That was all it took, Bellamy lifted her up like she weighed nothing, her legs still wrapped around him. 

He carried her to the plush, white couch, draped in fuzzy fur blankets, laying her down gently on top of them. 

With one last kiss, he stepped back, moving to flip on the ridiculously ornate fireplace. It filled the room with a soft glow, making the whole thing seem painfully romantic. 

“So pretty like this baby,” he whispered, sliding his jeans off before he settled between her legs. 

Clarke could feel herself flush from the way he was looking at her, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

He just waited, hovering over her while she gathered her bearings, trying to get herself to calm down. 

She kissed him again, centering herself, focusing on the feel of his lips on hers, trying not to think too hard about the fact that she’d been fantasizing about this for as long as she could remember. 

“Call me baby again,” she asked, feeling bolder, lifting her shirt over her head. 

Bellamy obliged, moaning loudly as he palmed her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples. 

He left wet, hot kisses against her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Her whole body was on fire, and she ached for him, longing for the press of him inside of her. 

It was so close, she could feel his cock through her jeans, hard and wanting. 

He kissed his way down her body, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her legs. The fire burned behind him, illuminating his features, making something in her chest squeeze. 

The way he was looking at her, she knew this was a mistake. Not because she didn’t want this, but because she wanted it too much. She wanted this for the rest of her life, for him to be hers, for her to be his. 

If she had her way, they would just stay in the house forever, the fireplace burning, the waves crashing outside. 

Bellamy pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her cunt, his tongue lapping over her clit. 

She laced her fingers through his hair, running her hands through it as he sucked at her, kissed her, made her feel like the only person on earth. 

The way he looked at her when he pulled away, lips wet, hair standing up. She was a goner—

“Baby…” she whispered, urging him back up, kissing up, relishing the ways he could taste herself on his mouth. “I need you.” 

He hovered over her for a beat, gaze soft. Gently, he tucked one of her curls behind her ear, kissing the tip of her nose, the tops of her cheeks, her forehead. 

And then, with a long, lingering, probing kiss to her lips, he pushed into her. 

The relief was immeasurable, the way he fit into her, the way her body immediately clung to him, trying to hold him as close as possible. 

“God, Clarke, you’re, you’re fucking perfect,” he painted, hips snapping into her, filling her over and over again. 

It was so right, so good, the heat of it sent shivers up her spine. This was better than anything she’d ever experienced before, she was ruined for life. Nothing would ever, ever measure up to this. 

“Yes, yes, give it to me. Give it to me. Make me yours,” she begged, knowing that it was too honest for her own good, but unable to keep it in any longer. 

His hips stuttered, fingers digging into her hips, slowing into something more gentle. 

“Say it again, baby. Ask me again,” he said, voice low, lips brushing her ear. 

The way he said it, he sounded choked, desperate, like he was asking for permission. 

“Make me yours Bellamy,” she said, cupping his jaw, drawing his eyes up to meet hers. 

She was toeing the line, she knew that, but she wanted it so badly. He was so handsome like this, soft brown eyes, strong jaw, smile that made her heart flutter. 

Her words were the last push they needed, like something snapped. 

It was wild and passionate, and Clarke knew she was almost screaming as she neared closer and closer to her orgasm. 

With one last cry of his name, she fell over the edge, her vision blurring around the corners. It was so intense she thought she might blackout, her voice going hoarse as she rode it out. 

Bellamy fell with her, spilling inside her, face buried in her neck. He whispered her name into her skin, over and over as he filled her. 

She kept her legs wrapped around him, wanting to hold him in for as long as possible. 

Being with Bellamy was better than she could’ve ever imagined. But it didn’t feel like she’d gotten him out of her system. If anything, this had made everything worse. 

Instead of imaging it, she knew for sure now. She knew how he felt inside her, what he looked like when he came, the way his voice sounded when he moaned her name. 

This was meant to give her closure, but instead, it ripped her wide open. 

***  
Bellamy laid back on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Things had been weird since New Years'. He wouldn’t go as far as to say what happened between him and Clarke was a mistake. Mainly because he could never actually bring himself to regret it. 

Being with her was incredible, better than he ever imagined. 

But it’d done nothing to help his crush on her...in fact, a crush didn’t even feel like the right word anymore. What he felt for Clarke, it was crushing, consuming. He loved her more than anything. 

And now she was pulling away. He’d barely seen her since everything happened, her texts were clipped, informative and never pushing past formality. It felt like he’d lost her—even though she was never his to lose in the first place. 

Their next tour cycle started in a week, the Valentine’s Tour. It was a big hit, they did it every year. This was the only time Clarke played full sets from the show, songs she’d written when she was a teenager. All love songs, soft and slow, the stage decked in pink glitter, confetti hearts raining from the ceiling. 

He usually loved the nostalgia of it, hearing the songs in Clarke’s adult voice. But he knew it would just be painful this time. 

Part of him wanted to back out, to make an excuse and take some time away. But he had a feeling this might be the last tour, a final chance for him to see her perform. Heartbroken or not, he couldn’t miss that. 

Sleeping with Clarke had been a choice, a messy one. He’d known it at the time, but he did it anyway. And now, he might’ve lost his best friend. 

He’d always worried about their friendship fading if Josie left the equation, but Clarke’s career was alive and kicking while his text was left unread in her inbox. 

He messed it up all on his own. 

***

  
“Cl—Josie...what the fuck are you doing in there?” Octavia asked, banging on the bathroom door. 

She had to be on stage in less than fifteen minutes. 

“Coming,” Clarke called, shutting off the tap and giving herself a once over in the mirror. 

She was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Right now, she had to focus on the show. 

With one last pat to her wig, Clarke emerged from the bathroom, just in time for Octavia to whisk her out of the dressing room and into a throng of backstage techs. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bellamy, lingering in the sidelines. It would typically be a comforting presence, but right now, her stomach was turning. 

She’d messed everything up. 

He could barely look at her. They hadn’t talked properly since New Years. Even at school, things were so painfully awkward that she could barely stand it. 

It was a disaster. 

And she had nobody to blame except herself. 

One perfect night with the man she was in love with, a night that was seared into the back of her brain. 

But in exchange, she lost her best friend. 

One of the sound techs clipped a mic to the side of her head, tearing her focus from Bellamy. 

She felt sick, she had to go out there and sing two hours of love songs. Songs that she’d written about Bellamy, songs about soft brown eyes and laughing as the sun went down. 

For all the downsides of fame, Josie had always been a way for Clarke to express herself. It was a source of comfort for her, a way to separate her feelings from her life and reflect on them. 

It hurt—but she’d written these songs as an insecure teenager who had a painful crush on a boy who thought of her as a little kid. Now, she was a grown-up, she had a successful career, and she was confident, and she understood that her love was valid even if he didn’t feel the same way. Singing these songs would be full circle, a way for her to find closure. 

Maybe one day things would go back to the way they were before, that they could curl up into each other and watch TV and forget about everything. 

“Good luck,” Bellamy said, making her jump as he stood beside her. 

He flashed her a careful smile, guarded and a bit unsure, but genuine. 

She returned his smile, squeezing his hand before she pulled away. 

The crowd was roaring, and she gave him one last look over her shoulder before she ran out into the blinding lights. 

Once she got out there, it was like the rest of the world faded away. 

All that mattered were the people starting up at her, holding signs with her lyrics on them. 

She sang her heart out, clearing her mind, and just focusing on her performance. 

It was thrilling, the way people were singing along with her, reaching out to hold her hand. 

“This is my favorite tour I do. Do you guys know why?” She asked, walking right to the edge of the stage. “I look out into this crowd, and I see so many women. And I know, some of you have been here with me since I was fifteen and starring on a show and singing about my first day of high school. You’ve followed along as I've sung about my life, as I’ve grown up. At meet and greets, I’ve had full-grown adults walk up to me and tell me, ‘I’ve loved your music since I was a kid’ and I think—wow, how lucky am I? I’m so grateful for all of you, no matter how old you are or how long you’ve been with me. I feel like you’re my friends, that you know about my crushes and my dreams. I’m going to close this show with an old favorite of mine, one that really represents where I started with all of this.” 

With that, she stepped back, gesturing to the band. 

The music slowed, something softer as her guitarist placed an old acoustic into her hands. 

“If we were a movie, you’d be the right guy—and I’d be the best friend, that you fall in love with in the end—“ she sang, heart, soaring as the crowd sang with her. The swell of it was intense, just her and the guitar and thousands of voices sharing her words. 

She’d written this song for Bellamy, and it felt more fitting than ever. 

***

She needed air, needed space. There were too many people around her, her mouth felt dry, and her chest tight. 

The show went better than she could’ve hoped. The crowd was lively, she got to sing some old favorites. There was no reason why she was feeling this way, but she knew that she needed to get away. 

Holding her hands up, she pushed through the crowd, avoiding everyone calling her name. She was running, despite her heels and tight skirt, a full-on sprint. It wasn’t until she reached her dressing room that she stopped, sagging against the closed door. 

And then—she threw up. 

Thankfully, she managed to reach a trash can in time, but it was full-bodied and ugly. 

All her anxiety, all the lack of sleep, the pressure of the tour, it was smacking her in the face. 

She was so tired and hurt and confused. 

When the feeling of nausea finally passed, she laid down on her dressing room floor, curled up into a ball, and cried. 

There was nobody to turn to, nobody to call, the only person she wanted right now couldn’t even look at her. 

Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

This was all her fault, she never should’ve taken that leap. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it, even now. 

***

“Octavia sent me,” was all Lincoln said as he shouldered into Bellamy’s apartment. 

“I’m fine,” Bellamy shrugged, pumping his dumbbell a little harder than strictly necessary. 

“Yeah, sure you are…” Lincoln sighed, placing a bag of takeout on the table. “I think you should talk to her.” 

Bellamy kept his focus on his movements, ignoring Lincoln’s probing. He didn’t want to talk about this, there was nothing to talk about. 

Things between him and Clarke would never be the same. 

He was heartbroken—and lost without her, he couldn’t remember the last time they went this long without speaking. 

But it was obvious that she didn’t feel the same way he did, that it was a one time thing for her. 

Maybe she could sense that he felt more, had he been too eager when they were together? 

It was all a blur now. He’d picked it apart hundreds of times.

He missed her in all the small things, while he was grocery shopping, on his lunch breaks, when he went for his morning coffee run. 

What they’d had was enough. He should’ve appreciated their friendship more, wasted less time wishing for more. 

And now it was gone. 

Hindsight was a bitch. 

“I can’t,” he shrugged, tucking his weights back in place. 

“You’re making yourself miserable, Bellamy. She—“ 

“Don’t.” 

He couldn’t handle any more comforting. No matter what Lincoln or his sister said, Clarke was still avoiding him. The silence was enough. She didn’t want to see him. Whatever happened on New Years, it changed their friendship forever. 

***  
The school was empty, nobody left except for Clarke and the janitors. 

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to do this here, why she decided this was the place. But something about it felt right. 

Scanning the teacher’s lounge one last time, she slipped into the bathroom. 

The crinkle of her CVS bag was deafening in the silence, the distinct sense of panic that someone might hear her. 

She’d been putting this off, even though it’d been obvious for a while. 

There was only so much she could attribute to anxiety and sleep deprivation. 

With a deep breath, she pulled the pregnancy test from its package. 

If she was right about this, it would change everything. 

***

  
“Octavia. I told you, I’m—“ he began swinging the door open to shoo his sister away. She’d been driving him crazy, hovering over him like she was worried he was going to lose his mind. 

But it wasn’t Octavia. 

It was Clarke. 

“Can we talk?” She asked, pulling her coat tighter around her body. 

She looked nervous, her hair wet from the rain, face unreadable. 

Despite everything, it was a relief to see her. 

“Always,” he said, stepping back to allow her inside. 

It was awkward—he couldn’t deny that. 

It felt wrong, things were never supposed to be like this. He wanted to go back to normal, even if it meant that they had to pretend nothing ever happened between them. 

That was fully what he intended to do, backtrack everything, try to stick a bandaid of all this. 

But seeing her curled in the corner of the couch, wet hair hanging in her face, so uncharacteristically unsure of herself. 

He couldn’t do it. 

“I need to say something, and I need you to hear me out,” he began, words tumbling out before he could stop himself. 

“Bellamy—“ 

“Please,” he begged, kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees. 

She still looked unsure, but she nodded, covering his hands with her own. 

“This is going to be long. But I need you to bear with me,” he warned her, turning his hands so he could hold onto hers. 

She nodded, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. He needed to tell her everything. Things were already pretty bad—it couldn’t get much worse. And if he was ever going to get over this, if they were ever going to go back to normal, he had to be honest. 

“When I first brought Octavia to act on Josie’s World, it was right after our mom died. I’d come home early from basic training, and I was mad about literally everything. I intended to sit in the background and study for my classes and stew in all my misery. But...but you never let that happen. You made me those little drawings, the sketches of me bent over my books, and you left them in my jacket pockets. They were never signed by. I knew they were yours. You were little, and I didn’t think of you as anything other than O’s friend...but even back then, I knew you were special Clarke. I don’t think I ever told you this, but you gave me something to smile about when it felt like my life was falling apart.” 

“Bellamy,” Clarke tried again, lip caught between her teeth. 

But he kept barreling on, knowing that if he stopped, he would never find the courage to start again. 

“And then you grew up, and we became friends, real friends. You became a part of my life, and I’m so fucking lucky for that. You chose me to protect you, to travel the world together. But spending all this time together, I've gotten to see you up close, to get to know the person behind Josie Lightbourne. Clarke, you are so beautiful and so talented and smart. But you’re also the funniest, kindest and most giving person I have ever met. In the entire time, I’ve known you, not a day goes by where I’m not grateful that you’re in my life. Somewhere along the way, you became my best friend, my family, my favorite person to be with, and I fell in love with you. And things are bad right now and messed up, and I know you don’t feel the same way—“ 

“How could you think that I don’t feel the same way?” Clarke interrupted, suddenly springing to life. 

Bellamy was stunned, his brain shorting out as the rest of his speech faded away. 

Did she just say? 

Did she? 

“What,” was all he could muster, his brain still trying to catch up with the overload of information. 

“I can’t believe this. Are you, are you saying that you’re in love with me? That you’ve been in love with me this entire time?” She asked, her eyes welling with tears. 

“I’m completely and totally, pathetically in love with you, Clarke,” he said, laying it all out in front of them. 

If there was ever a time, to be honest, it was now. 

As much as he didn’t want to be, he was suddenly hopeful. He’d never let himself indulge in the idea that she felt the same way, until now, it didn’t even feel like a possibility. 

Clarke started to cry, full-bodied sobs, seemingly out of nowhere. 

“You love me?” She sobbed, reaching out to hold his face in her hands. 

“Clarke…” he said, confused by her reaction. 

“I’ve spent the better part of life trying to come to terms with the idea that you would never love me back. And now I find out, you loved me this entire time,” she continued, tears still dripping down her cheeks. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, Bellamy. You are hands down my favorite person in the entire world. These past weeks without you, it felt like I was missing a piece of my soul.” 

She surged forward, knocking him over from the force of it, hugging him so tightly that he lost his breath. They kissed and kissed and kissed, till he wasn’t sure where he started and she ended. 

It was as close to pure joy as he’d ever felt. 

He kissed her again, a thrill running through his entire body. He loved her, and she loved him back, and this was their life now. 

Ten minutes ago, he’d been bracing himself for the worst conversation of his life—and now, this was the happiest moment he’d ever had. 

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Clarke said, pulling back enough that she could roll off of him. 

He missed the heat of her body immediately, wanted to follow her, to gather her in his arms and hold her forever. 

But she looked nervous again—and that made him nervous. 

“What’s wrong?” 

His mind was spiraling in a million directions as he watched her wring her hands in her lap, eyes focused on something behind him. 

“I know this is a lot—but, I just. There’s never going to be a good time…” she rambled, reaching out to take his hand again. 

“Whatever it is...it doesn't change anything. You know that right,” he assured, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles, trying to comfort her in some way. 

Clarke chewed on her lip, tears gathering in her eyes again. 

“The thing is, it kind of does,” she said carefully, looking at him with so much love, he thought he might burst. “I’m pregnant, Bellamy.”

And just like that—-his entire world tipped on his axis. 

Clarke was pregnant. 

She was going to have a baby, their baby. 

Before he could fully process what was happening, he started crying too. 

The magnitude of it all was overwhelming. 

He was going to be a dad. 

They were going to be a family. 

“Clarke,” he murmured, reaching out to gather her in his arms, pulling her into his lap. “A baby.” 

“You’re happy, right? Because I’m thrilled,” she asked, stroking his cheek gently. She looked so hopeful, so happy, so incredibly beautiful. 

“I’m the happiest man in the entire world.” 

They held each other, and they celebrated, and they cried. They shared their hopes and dreams and fears for the future. 

It was the best day of Bellamy’s entire life. 

***  
Bellamy’s head was pillowed on her stomach, his ear pressed against her bare skin. 

She was starting to show, a small bump pulling up the hem of her shirt slightly. 

Bellamy’s hands were always on her, touching the baby, talking to it, singing to it. 

It was incredibly sweet—this whole experience, seeing how excited he was, it only made their love stronger. 

“What if we named her Josie?” He asked, tilting his head to look at her. 

“You’re joking, right?” She laughed, twirling one of his curls around her finger. 

“We wouldn’t have any of this without her,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to her exposed skin. 

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl…” 

“Joseph then,” Bellamy suggested, voice cracking on a laugh before he could even finish. 

Rolling her eyes, she tugged him back up, kissing him soundly. 

He had a point. 

She was absolutely never going to name her unborn child Josie, it was a little on the nose, even by their standards. 

But she was grateful. 

Her double life was past her now, the character of Josie safety vanished into the void, but everything she had was thanks to a stupid show on the Disney channel and an auburn wig. 

It’d given her the experiences of a lifetime, the love of her life, a baby, everything she could’ve possibly dreamed of. 

Every show, every plane ride, every sparkly bodycon dress had led her to this exact moment. 

She was Josie Lightbourne—and Josie Lightbourne was a part of her. That would always be the case, even if she never performed another song again. But now, she was just Clarke Griffin, and she was a teacher who lived in a modest townhouse with her fiancé. 

Her life was normal and boring and beautiful, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. 

***  
2 Years Later 

_“I’m Marco, and this is Wheezy in the Morning on KPL5! You just heard Josie Lightbourne’s “Madison” from her recent surprise album. Coming up, we have another hit from her called “door closed”...”_

_“Tonight on E! News, we’re talking about Josie Lightbourne’s new surprise album “Earthside.” The former teen pop sensation seemingly fell off the face of the earth overnight, disappearing without a word before she dropped this album and faded away again. Is this album her final goodbye? What does it all mean? Find out tonight on E!”_

_“Hey y’all we’re The Music Guys, and we’re going to be talking about Josie Lightbourne. From Disney Channel Star to the heart-wrenching surprise album that took America by storm, we’re going to break down her elusive presence in Hollywood. Where did she go? Will she ever be back?”_

_“Tonight we have Harper Macintyre from Josie’s World here to talk about her upcoming movie. But first, we’re going to hear her thoughts on Josie Lightbourne’s new album and her theories on where exactly America’s favorite pop star went.”_

_“Incredibly, even though Josie Lightbourne hasn’t been seen in over two years, “Earthside” has been nominated for 3 Grammys. The breakout hit “Madison” is up for song of the year. Will Josie make an appearance at the Grammys? Only time will tell.”_

_“Wherever Josie Lightbourne is, it’s undeniable from the sweet, acoustic tones of “Earthside” that she’s happy. With people like that, people that have had their entire lives laid out for the world to see, that is a rare gift. I, for one, am happy for her, and the world should be too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Raise your hand if you never realized that the plot of Hannah Montana would be totally impossible in 2020 with social media. This was such a fun little guy to write, I had a blast with it. It was cute and fluffy and really dumb hahah. Sometimes its really fun to just get stuff like this out there, write the fic you want to see in the world babes. 
> 
> I hope y'all are doing okay, staying safe and sane and healthy, and happy. I think about all y'all a lot and you're always in my thoughts and prayers. I appreciate each and every one of you and it always makes me smile to hear from you. 
> 
> Let me know you liked this little guy!! I love love hearing what you liked or any feedback you may have! If you want to be pals you can find me on Tumblr @Nakey-cats-take-bathsss.


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